It's A Fine Line
by reflecting
Summary: Human AU. Deanna used to date Castiel's twin Jimmy. She keeps pissing Castiel off for no reason any of them can understand. Jimmy finally has enough and decides to step in. This is not healthy. It's been two years since the break-up and Castiel needs to get over himself. Deanna is not, in fact, the Devil incarnated. She just likes to poke things to see if they go RAWR.
1. Chapter 1

**Pairings:** Castiel/Dean, Jimmy Novak/Dean (past), Jimmy Novak/Amelia, Balthazar/Dean (brief)

**Warnings:** Gender changes; always-a-girl!Dean.Abusive language, hostility, some violence. English isn't my first language and it's un-beta'd. Some religious musings that are in no way meant to offend anyone ever. Just saying.

**Notes:** Human AU, where Dean has always been Deanna. Note warnings: Deanna and Cas are assholes in this fic. Jimmy is BAMF.

I look forward to the possibility of angry sex. Also this might be one of the more angtsy/drama fics I've ever written. Go me!

Anyway, enjoy!

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**It's A Fine Line**

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Deanna woke up the way she always did on occasions like these; startled into awareness, because it was always more like being unconscious than asleep, and abruptly becoming aware of the throbbing in her head and foul taste of her mouth. Standard procedure. Step two was to lay still, eyes closed, and figure out where, and with whom, she was. Because, it was always a matter of waking up to _something,_ these mornings. She usually managed to complete this step by stringing together a patch of fuzzy memories from the night before, and if not, she'd jump ahead and do what she always did, memories or no; concentrate on her other senses to try and get a feel of the situation. _Not so shabby, Opps that's bad_ or _Fuck_.

This time around, it was with a few rather amusing memories and a quick feel and look around (silk sheets on a water bed, what the fuck?) that she decided on _Not so shabby_. She'd hooked up with her latest dick on legs at the club she'd been dragged to by the group of giggling girls Sammy's girlfriend Jess hung out with. She had been convinced by her darling little bro that it would be a good idea to make friends (he'd pulled out the puppy eyes, the bastard). It was the kind of place she'd never even think to visit given a choice, and exactly the kind of place where you'd meet a man like Balthazar. Smarmy British douche who played fast and loose, the kind of smart-ass that always made her want to slap them then fuck them.

He'd been her salvation though, an excellent excuse to get away from Jess and her girls (they were never going to be her friends, puppy eyes or not. They were all about _feelings _and rose petals and sunsets and walks on the beach – just, _ew. _Though Jess was cool). Balthazar was obviously a man who knew how to party hard and fuck harder, and Deanna could definitely appreciate that.

Now though, he was snoring up a storm on the other side of the _fucking enormous_ bed, and she was quite secure in the feeling he wouldn't give two shits if she borrowed his shower and helped herself to something to eat and drink before leaving. Sighing in satisfaction at the wonderful aches of no-strings-attached sex, Deanna slipped and slid out of bed in an awkward wriggly sort of wormy dance (seriously, silk sheets on a water bed? Again; what, the, fuck) and went to locate the bathroom.

She picked up her clothes on the way, and found her way rather easily around the house. As promised, there was no sign of Balthazar's roommate, or housemate, or whatever and she made quick work of getting clean (dried jizz, never comfortable, and Jesus fuck she even had some in her eyelashes; _ew_). It might be a bit redundant, as her clothes weren't exactly fresh, and damn girls and their girl nights, what is it with these creatures that demands make-overs and fucking _dresses_ and _make-up?_ Cursing the annoyance of the people of her own sex, Deanna slipped into the 'little black' dress she'd been forced into yesterday evening and was thankful the shower had rid her of the last piece of awkward eye shadow and ridiculous _foundation_ and _blush_. The only good thing it had done was covering most of her damn freckles.

Now dressed and feeling a glass of water and some toast was long overdue, Deanna made her way to the kitchen. The ease with which she navigated new places would probably, to normal people, seem more than a little messed up but fuck them; Deanna hadn't been normal since she was four and she wasn't going to start now.

It was when she was sitting on the counter, nibbling at the edge of a piece of toast and dangling her bare legs (the tights were a lost cause, ripped up and thrown away in the trash) while wriggling her toes (fucking nail polish, at least it wasn't _pink, _but red), that the surprisingly pleasant morning went from _not too shabby_ to _ABORT! ABORT! Get the Hell out!_, which was a lesser used category nowadays. But it seemed it had planned one hell of a comeback, because in the entrance of the kitchen stood none other than _Castiel Novak_, the twin brother of Jimmy Novak who was one of her better exes. They'd never really gotten along, what with Castiel's stick-up-the-ass attitude, and her own sometimes unfortunate need to prod and poke until she got a reaction.

At the moment, he was staring at her with eyes wide in confusion and shock, stock still and almost gaping. She blinked at him in silent panic, fighting the urge to throw the toast at him and make a run for it because _what the fuck_, but by then Castiel's eyes had narrowed and she could fucking _hear_ him putting the pieces together. In the most judgmental way ever, as was his wont.

She'd taken a look at herself after showering and dressing; she had the appearance of the well and properly fucked, hickies and bruises and all. It wasn't a difficult leap. _Still_.

"Deanna Winchester," he stated in that calm, I'm-not-giving-you-any-clues-as-to-what-I'm-thinking voice that could break a lesser person (and had, many times over). She was still working up for a good, healthy hyperventilation and so she thinks she can be excused for the "What the hell are you doing here?!" that slips out of her mouth without checking in with her brain first. By the look on his face (well, it was more in the eyes; there lay one of the many, many differences between Jimmy and his frowny, grouchy twin), things were rapidly getting worse. Fuck.

"I live here, Winchester," he stated, "The question should be what _you_ are doing in _my_ kitchen. However, I think the answer can be summed up rather easily. Balthazar."

She didn't know if he was planning to kill her, or his British housemate, or both (what the fuck, what the hell, since when does Castiel tolerate living in anyone's space unless—Oh, my, God).

"Oh my _God_ he's _your boyfriend_ oh my God, _fuck my life_, holy shit, _why is this my life_ what the f—" She thinks she might be two seconds away from having her head explode while her heart rots away in the acid of her stomach, but she's interrupted by the loud and obnoxious wailings of protest coming from behind Castiel.

"—That is so far off the mark, what the bloody hell! Cassy is NOT my boyfriend! That is bloody _gross!_"

She might slap herself because her first thought was _oh good I haven't cheated on Jimmy's murderous brother with someone _but she's busy staring at the scene in front of her and wishing she could change the channel because _this shit can't be real._

Castiel is already turning to pin his intensive don't-fuck-with-me stare on Balthazar and it's a small relief to have it off of her. "Balthazar, this is my brother's _ex._ Deanna Winchester."

Balthazar's eyes widened before a smirk of approval stretched across his face. "_She's_ the infamous Deanna Winchester? Well, bloody hell! You made her sound less than she was, because let me tell you, your bro was one lucky ba—"

"She dumped him, Balthazar. I do not want to hear this," Castiel growled, making him back up a step.

"What? Hey, it's not like I knew who she was! Told me her name was Jennifer, the minx. Bloody gorgeous and fucking amazing in b—"

Deanna has long since edged off the counter to slide along it towards the nearest window, working it open discreetly to make a leap to freedom, because this is fucking insane and jumping out of a window would be the most sane thing happening in the room.

"—don't finish that sentence, Balthazar, you _asshat—"_

She hears Balthazar laughing and cheering in approval as she hauls her ass out the window and lands in the flowerbed running; she totally left her shoes behind but it's a small price to pay. She ignores Castiel calling after her in as much of an irate voice he could muster _("Winchester!")_ and hightails it out of there; fishing her phone out of her bra (she had no handbag. Who needs it with the great storage of bras available?) and hitting speed dial.

She's calling Sammy and she doesn't care what he's up to, he's going to drop everything and pick her up and drive her home to safety where she can figure out what the fuck just happened and then proceed to find ways of wiping her mind clean of it.

.

"You slept with the man Jimmy's brother – who hates your guts – lives with."

Deanna is so not up for this. "Shut the fuck up, Sammy."

"The brother who threatened to _make your life hell."_

"I said shut up!" She launches a glob of macaroni and cheese at him with her spoon, satisfied when it ends up in his stupid, floppy hair she does not find endearing.

"For Christ's sake, Dee!" he bitches, trying and failing to save his precious locks. "You slept with Castiel Novak's _friend,_ after how he reacted to Jimmy and you dating? Are you insane? Are you doing this to him on purpose?"

She snaps, standing up and putting her bowl of now entirely unappealing food in the sink a bit too roughly. "Dude I don't fucking do it on purpose! Jimmy and I broke up _two years ago_, and you _know _it was totally mutual! You know we're still friends for fuck's sake! And I had _no idea_ Balthazar was Castiel's friend, how could I?!"

"Sorry, I know, but," he sighs, after a moment of dead silence. "This only happens to you doesn't it?"

She mutters a "Don't I know it" before moving on to clean away the mess in their kitchen sink as Sammy finished up his own bowl of cheesy goodness. Deanna makes a mental note to pick up some extra shifts at the bar and get him some proper vegetables and meat, and tries to ignore the sick, twisted feeling of indignant anger in her stomach. It was ridiculous. She hasn't seen Castiel outside of the occasional glimpse since she and Jimmy parted ways, and while they'd still been dating, Castiel had mostly been a cloud of ominous, over-protective fury hanging over them. He'd never kept silent on his opinion of her defiling his brother, no matter what Jimmy had said.

Besides, with a family like that, Deanna doesn't regret dragging Jimmy into some interesting stuff that might not have been entirely…proper. She'd never given much of a flying fuck what people outside her family thought of her, least of all self-important dicks_,_ and it's more than a little daunting to find she might not be as unconcerned as she'd assumed. She thought she was over this; apparently not.

But dammit, he had no right to judge her; she was a grown woman and could fuck whoever she wanted. It's not like she _knew_ he lived with Balthazar. Then again, she was pretty sure sleeping with a man like Balthazar told something about her that wasn't exactly reflecting well on her character and only confirmed what Castiel had been saying all along. Not that it mattered, she wasn't planning on meeting him again and she hadn't left Balthazar with her number for a reason. So she'd just shrug this off, what did Castiel's stupid judgmental crap matter anyway, he didn't know her.

No harm no foul.

Right.

.

Jimmy remembers Deanna Winchester with fondness and slight anxiety. She'd always been a little bit too much, a little bit more than he could take. Bigger than him, stronger than him, even at 19. But she'd been the kind of wild, chaotic fling he'd only ever heard about and their year together had been pleasant. It had changed him for the better, he thinks. Made him realize that although jumping in feet first wasn't his thing, it was sometimes good to just…go for it. Take what you want, fight for it. He'd also learned the important lesson that you can't save everyone, can't _fix_ some things.

Deanna hadn't been a broken young woman, not precisely, but she'd been scarred and sometimes she'd come to him bleeding. She wasn't the person he had thought would be welcomed by God but he'd learned a lot from her without her really doing anything. She'd opened his mind, without meaning to, because she'd said she wasn't here to change anyone, that it was up to yourself to change. She didn't believe in God, and it would've made him blanch but she'd been such a fundamentally _good person_ he simply couldn't believe it mattered, in the end. God had created humans with free will, and sometimes ones circumstances forced you to lose faith, or choose to place it in another.

In the end, it all boiled down to _do no evil_, and for all that people pointed out her supposed sins Jimmy had loved her. She drank, she was sexually liberated, he knew she sometimes stole and lied to make ends meet, but she was young and had a little brother to feed. A brother to put through school and rent to pay, a father who'd succumbed to alcoholism long ago, and a murky past of pain and loss.

He'd never learned the whole story of Deanna Winchester, but he knew the gist of it, and he respected her. Although she'd seduced him (she was his first, and he has no regrets), she hadn't manipulated him. She'd simply allowed him to make his own choices.

This was not what his family saw. The only thing he regrets is not being able to defend her from the backlash of the youngest Novak being supposedly dragged into a world of drugs and sex against his consent. They didn't believe him, and Deanna had made him promise to keep her secrets secret. Even from his twin brother, _especially_ from his twin brother.

Castiel had always been somewhat over-protective, which is a bit unfair, because he was only hours older. But it was a fight he'd given up on many years ago, and it simply was in Castiel's nature. In this, Jimmy had always found him and Deanna alike; something neither of them had appreciated, but it'd been true. He'd seen how she was around Sam, and he recognized it in his brother when he was around Jimmy.

Deanna and Jimmy had come to an inventible end, however. They'd both known they wouldn't stay together when they'd started it, and by the end of it all, they were more friends than lovers and had parted on friendly grounds. He'd quit his job at his father's firm and moved away to study theology, and a year and a half later he'd met Amelia. He'd kept in contact with Deanna over the last two years with the occasional email and phone call. He'd made sure to drop by her and Sam when he was in town as well, introducing her to Amelia, who'd by then known their shared history. They'd hit it off and Amelia had been properly charmed by Sam, who'd always been the more polite of the Winchesters.

As far as Jimmy knew, Castiel hadn't talked or seen Deanna since she'd seen Jimmy off to college. He knew his brother blamed Deanna, for all of it. He still thinks Jimmy left only because she dumped him, and Jimmy's given up on changing his mind. Deanna had never been a total innocent when it comes to his brother's behavior either; she'd loved to provoke him and often let him underestimate her for reasons Jimmy couldn't understand. They'd been fighting ever since they'd been introduced, and while it had at times been amusing, it usually had left him with a headache.

So, while he'd given up on making peace between his then-girlfriend/now-friend and his brother, he'd thought he'd been right to assume Castiel would avoid Deanna like the plague or at least let it all go. Which was why he was rather surprised to hear from him only to end up listening to an angry spiel on how Deanna was once again out to ruin the lives of the Novaks.

Jimmy resisted the urge to sigh and point out he was in a happy relationship, it had been two years and Deanna was 22 years old now, she could and always had been with whomever she wanted, and it wasn't really any of Castiel business. But he was a good brother, and so listened, if a bit bemused by the amount of passion Deanna had always managed to stir in his usually stoic twin.

It didn't take too long, Castiel had never been one to use too many words, but they'd soon changed the subject of the upcoming summer. Amelia would be flying out to visit her mother's family in Europe, and Jimmy had promised to come home and help at the firm for some extra cash. They were both looking forward to it; they'd always been close brothers like twins tended to be, despite their differences.

"I'll see you in a two weeks, Cassy," Jimmy said into the phone, because Castiel was still hopeless with technology and had no idea how to handle skype without wiping the whole computer clean by mistake. It had happened. Twice. "Behave," he ended with, because it needed saying. Honestly, if there was someone you should keep an eye on, it was Castiel. Which might be why his brother was so paranoid about Jimmy, but he should know better than to expect Jimmy to do everything he might or might not have been up to with Gabriel (plausible deniability on Jimmy's part, he refused to know some things).

_"You too,"_ Castiel replied in the same annoyed voice he always got. Jimmy smiled. _"See you soon."_

They hung up and Jimmy got back to preparing the dinner he'd been working on. Amelia was coming over and he'd like to spend as much time with her as possible before they parted ways over the summer. He wouldn't see her until school started again, which was a saddening thought, but she at least knew how to navigate skype. With a content hum, he sliced the remaining carrots and let his mind drift.

He'd almost forgotten Castiel's run in with Deanna, until he got a text in the early morning from the latter (3.40am, really Dee?) a few days later.

_MY HEAD'S KILLING ME. DUNNO IF IT'S COZ SAMMY'S YELLING AT ME, BLOODLOSS OR UR EVUL TWIN MAKING ME EGGS IN MY KITCHEN. LEGIT FREAKING OUT. _

Well, shit.

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**End notes: **Deanna's life might actually suck. I don't know why I love abusing her but there it is. I swear I do it for the h/c because of feels. Also Castiel is an ass, but he's got his reasons, even if they are stupid ones. Let's just say everyone's emotionally constipated and doesn't know what's what.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed! Please review/comment! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes: **Yup, I had the second chapter lined up. We'll see when the third one gets written lol. Enjoy!

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"Are these poisoned?" Deanna poked at the delicious glob of greasy eggs, scrambled perfectly. Too perfectly. She wrinkled her nose in distrust, torn between taking a bite, risking it (death by food can't be bad, unless you count Gluttony Guy in _Seven_, which she does not, ew _why brain why_) and scooping it up to catapult at the face of the Evil Twin, a.k.a. Castiel Novak. Said Malicious Man was currently resting against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and eyebrows doing the Dance of Disapproval. Or Hula-Hula of Hatred. Her vision was still a bit blurry from the fight earlier that night and quite possibly deteriorating due to blood loss and receding adrenaline (there might have been a bit of alcohol involved as well). She's launching her Egg Bomb in a beautiful arch, and the spoonful of greasy goodness landed with a wet, thick sound. On the floor. Inches from Castiel's shoes.

Damn, she missed.

"Yes, I've laced them with arsenic because clearly I couldn't have just left you to bleed out on the street instead." Deadpan; Castiel took it to new levels. He eyes the splash of eggs with suppressed amusement. Deanna glared, or attempted to, but Castiel seemed unfairly unimpressed and merely raised a brow. Deanna hates his face, enough to say it aloud, _vehemently._

Castiel might be trying not to cackle at the no doubt pathetic picture she's painting here, but she's too busy eying the remaining pieces of her scrambled eggs to care.

"The feeling is mutual," he says in reply, and she decides that, fuck it; let him deal with her corpse. She's fairly sure Sammy would avenge her, once he got over the totally undeserved (totally!) anger at her for drinking too much (again) and getting into a fight (again). It was very much legit though; if she hadn't stepped in that poor sucker would be broke with a knife in his gut. She knew the feeling, but Sammy didn't need to know that. It was ages ago anyway, when dad was still around, and the story she'd made up for the scar was much cooler anyway.

She's inhaled the eggs within moments, and is gulping down a glass of cold water when Sammy returns from the bathroom with more bandages and swabs. There might have been broken glass involved at some point in the evening, she wasn't sure, but there were enough small cuts and scrapes on her hands and arms for it to be a high possibility.

"Thanks, Castiel," Sammy says, nodding to the empty plate of eggs Deanna was contemplating licking clean. Her brother and Castiel both gave her weird looks when she actually did it, but fuck them, she had totally been someone's hero tonight and she deserved a good plate licking.

"Who were you texting before?" Castiel asks, sounding highly annoyed, as if he really didn't want to ask but couldn't help himself. Sammy settled down on the chair next to her and started cleaning her knuckles gently, despite the frown on his face. Deanna didn't even try to swallow the guilt, she knew from experience it would only choke her, and leaned forward to rest her cheek against the side her little brother's head for a moment, breathing him in. His silly hair was baby soft against her skin and he smelled like the laundry detergent she preferred, and his shampoo, with his own scent tangled up in it. It had always been more home than the familiar stench of dad's whiskey and gunpowder.

Sammy relaxes against her, pressing his forehead against her shoulder. Deanna breathes in and looks over at Castiel, who's shifting awkwardly in clear discomfort. She doesn't quite have the energy to smirk and flip him off, but blearily recalls his question and answers it with an overly cheerful tone. "Your Good Twin, of course."

Castiel looks like he wants to faceplant on the counter, and this time, Deanna does smirk. Sammy withdraws enough to continue working on her hands, a sigh of resignation on his lips. "What did you text him, Dee? You do know it's like, 4 in the morning, right?"

Deanna shrugs, wincing as it pulls at something tender in her shoulder. "Just informing him of the improbability of the situation. I mean, Cas making me eggs? In our kitchen? 4 in the morning?"

Sammy snorts, casting a wary glance Castiel's way. Castiel frowns. "Don't call me that," he snaps, making Deanna roll her eyes. "Castiel is a mouthful. I'm in no condition to wrestle with your stupid name, stupid-face," she snaps back, scowling.

Castiel blinks at her. "Stupid-face? Really? We're doing this right now?", he says, way too incredulous than is warranted. "If anyone's stupid, it's you. How the fuck did you think it would be a good idea to go against a 200 pounds armed mugger while drunk off your ass?"

Deanna glares, and glares, and ignored Sammy's instant noise of agreement. Traitor. Whatever happened to Winchesters Against the World?

"Hey now!" she snaps, snatching a hand free from Sammy's clutches to point sharply in Castiel's direction. "Just because you're a heartless bastard that feeds on babies and walks this Earth with the sole purpose of spreading your Holier-Than-Thou, Innocents-Beware Wrath like a fucking airborne virus doesn't mean we're _all_ gonna step aside and let shit happen to undeserving people!"

She might've poked a sleeping bear here, or stepped on a lion's tail, or possibly wriggled her finger in front of a snake, by the look on Castiel's face. Sammy winced, looking unsure of what to do and she couldn't blame him but she was too busy being sick of Castiel's bullshit. All the years of his judgment and outright hatred and here he was making her scrambled eggs and calling her an idiot for _helping someone_. She'd known there was no pleasing this guy, and _she didn't want to_, she didn't fucking care, but apparently, she did.

She did care that he treated her like the dirt on the sole of his shoe, she did care that he was just like everyone else. For some fucked up reason, she did give a damn about him. She wanted to point out she _wasn't like that_, she wanted to tell him about losing her mother to fire and her father to whiskey. She wanted to show Sammy off and say, see, I raised him, I made sure he got into the right schools and survived past childbed. I cooked him dinner and I paid the bills. I quit school to do it and I drink to cope, but I don't skip work and I don't neglect him. I made your brother laugh and I made him happy, he says so. _What have I done to deserve this crap from you?_

But she doesn't say any of that, and he doesn't know she's thinking it, so they're stuck glaring at each other and Deanna is just so _tired_. Sammy's silent and tending to her wounds, but Castiel's eyes are flashing; so much more intense than his brother's, as with everything. Jimmy is sweet and tempered. Castiel is a raging storm behind a wall of ice.

"You're a fucking bitch, Winchester," he hisses, pushing himself away from the counter. "A fucking bitch and I'm fucking glad you're not with Jimmy anymore." Neither knows how much he really means it. "Just stay the fuck away from him, don't text or call him again. I should've made it clear sooner, but don't fucking see him anymore."

Sammy stares at them both wide-eyed for a moment before narrowing into a glare, focusing on Castiel. Deanna mentally cheers for the Winchester Team once again before losing whatever grip she had on her temper.

"That's it!" she hisses, jumping off the chair and striding up to Castiel, finger stabbing his chest. "Your brother is his own fucking person, he makes his own decisions, and until _he_ tells me to fuck off, I won't! Because you know what? We're _friends_ and he _likes _me. That's right, James Novak, your saintly brother, likes _me._ _Deal with it._ It's been 2 fucking years, why the hell do you care?!"

And that's what it all comes down to, she realizes. Why do _any_ of them care?

Castiel glares at her and slaps her hand away, making her wince and causing some of the cuts to bleed again, before storming out. "Yeah, run away Novak! Before I _taint_ you too!"

The apartment door slams loud enough to make Sammy jump, and Deanna tried to feel triumphant about that but she can't. Whatever this is, it's as fucked up as she remembers. This is why she hated being around Castiel when she was still with Jimmy. The man gave a new definition of _confusion_ and _frustration_. One she couldn't decipher for the life of her. She's never known anyone who'd gotten under her skin as thoroughly as one Castiel Novak.

The thought was as discomforting as it had been the first time she'd had it.

.

After glancing at his phone and dropping it back on the nightstand with a disbelieving grunt, Jimmy had already blearily decided shit was going to go down and mentally braced himself for the fallout. It was by now an automatic response to Deanna Winchester and for the fact that his brother was now apparently involved yet again, Jimmy didn't feel at all guilty about sleeping in and catching a few extra hours of the unconscious bliss. Watching a train crash took energy.

By 9am he was alive and kicking once again, and ready to plug in the phones and turn on his cell. Five missed calls, three texts and two voicemails (one on his cell and on his regular phone respectively) from his brother greeted him as he sipped on his coffee and poked at the toaster, willing the bread to pop up faster and looking perfect. For some reason he never manages to get that golden brown color it was supposed to be, and had to settle for either charcoal or mush with a hint of crust. It was a bit of a gamble, highly depended on his patience.

He finally caved and just popped them up manually, resigned to mush, and ignored the shrill sound of his phone on principle. He blames his brother for the crap toast, because Deanna can usually talk herself out of disturbing him at ungodly hours of the day (it's the toast that makes him spout blasphemy, but he sends an apologetic prayer anyway, amen). She's not so good at controlling herself around his brother, however, and they both suffer from some sort of poke-it-until-it-explodes syndrome.

Jimmy worries, he does.

"What did you do this time," he says blankly, cell on speakerphone because he's eating and it's satisfying to have something to glare at, even if it's just a technological device lying innocently on the table in front of him. He pushes his cup of coffee a safe distance away, just in case.

There's a pause of what Jimmy assumed is either startled disbelief or seething frustration, or both, before his brother replies. "I _didn't do anything. Your ex did. She's a bitch with no brains. Why the hell did you date her? God she pisses me off!"_

"Don't blaspheme," Jimmy says absently, taking a bite of his soggy toast and sighing. His brother wasn't a bad man, he wasn't. He was just….an idiot. "Deanna is just as much of a bitch as you're an ass, Cassy. You're a jerk to her, and she gives as good as she takes. You should know that by now. So, seriously, what now? I thought you were going to avoid her after the last run-in?"

Castiel grumbles, but Jimmy doesn't bother trying to pick up on it. "_I was on my way home and saw her on the other side of the street, completely drunk off her ass as usual. Looks like she's still hitting the bottle, I told you so. By the reaction of her brother this happens a lot. I can't believe child services haven't been put on her case."_

There's a headache coming on, and a hot flare of genuine anger on the Winchesters' behalf. His brother isn't usually this vicious, though spouting bullshit when he's upset is nothing new. Jimmy forces himself to focus on the upset part. There must be more to the story.

Screw it.

(For now; he's just going to blow up a little bit first.)

"Castiel, you're being an absolute asshole and I know you know it. You have no idea what's going on with that family and you've never bothered to learn, so don't judge a woman who's been making something good out of a really bad situation. Now tell me what happened, you're obviously disturbed by something. Is Deanna okay?" He's sort of extremely horrified he didn't think of asking the last bit sooner, but Deanna drunk and bleeding on the weekend had sadly never been unusual. As far as he knew, the only times she skipped were if something of Sam's coincided with her coping ritual. He was going to have to talk to her about that, again.

Alcoholism runs in the family and her father had lost his battle to his beloved whiskey without much of a fight. No one could afford this to happen to Deanna as well, or Jimmy didn't know what he'd do. He's invested.

_"You're right,"_ Castiel sighs, sounding extremely displeased about it. But, like he said, he's not a bad man. Just a bit of a jerk. "_It's just…she pisses me off so bad, I don't know how she does it. She tackled a mugger that was five times her size, Jimmy, he had a knife. The other guy would just have had to drop his wallet, but she fucking jumped in front of him. Who does that?! She could've died!"_

Jimmy's trying really hard not to freak out because apparently things were a bit worse than he'd thought and suddenly ignoring that text and falling asleep while making himself scarce was the worst idea ever. He's the worst human being ever. The _worst. _

"Is she all right?! Castiel, how is she?!" He's already moving, dumping the dishes in his sink and heading to his bedroom while clutching at his cell. "I'm coming over earlier, I'll catch an earlier flight, I just need to—"

"—_Jimmy! She's fine, she's fine! Shit, calm down you're making me freak out too. I ran over and scared him off, okay? She's just got some cuts and bruises, I got her home. Her brother patched her up; she was fine when I left. Fine enough to be her usual charming self, are you breathing? Breathe, Jimmy."_

The mental image of Deanna bleeding out on a pavement fades a bit but he shakes his head for good measure and breathes out. "I'm still coming over, I'm coming over to kill her and then we're having words about what's up with the two of you because this is getting ridiculous. Correction; this was ridiculous from the moment I introduced you and you spilled your drink down her shirt."

_"Not that I don't want you to come over, but seriously—"_

"No, this isn't up for discussion. I'll call you later, I'm gonna finish packing," Jimmy snaps before hanging up, nerves fried. He's calling Deanna after this, and then he'll talk to Sam. Then he'll head out and buy his girlfriend flowers and explain he's going to the funeral of their pain-in-the-ass, righteous-and-feisty Winchester woman. And hopefully sort some things out there were long overdue, which he'd originally thought were a lost cause, but fate seemed determined to throw his emotionally stunted brother and equally emotionally constipated ex together like some sort of deranged version of a dogfight. He prayed for some patience, he prayed for Deanna's well-being, and hoped a summer would be enough to fix everything.

It was a naïve hope, because there was so much he wanted to fix, and even if he'd learned that there are things you just _can't_, but it didn't mean he still didn't wish to. Some things needed to take their natural course, and he didn't have the right or the power to decide. Jimmy prayed for this too, for help, because the Winchesters had been through enough. Can't they have nice things? Please?

He was still going to kill her, and possibly camp out on her doorstep after he confiscated her alcohol. Castiel was going to help with this and maybe live up to his name for once, and he was going to play nice with Deanna or Jimmy might have to drive them to a marriage counselor himself.

Pausing, he frowned. Huh. Well, that actually wasn't a bad idea.

He filed it away for later categorization (it would either be plan A, B, C, D, etc, depending on how bad things were by the time he got there) and quickly got dressed, flinging the bits and pieces he hadn't bothered packing yet into the open suitcase by the wall in his bedroom. He was ready to go within minutes, because he liked to pack in advance and didn't have much left to do. On his way out, he dialed Deanna's number. As he waited for her to pick up, he got in the car and pulled out. It took two more attempts, he was about to try Sam's cell instead, before she answered.

"_Mnnggrrrhh?"_ greeted him and he took a deep breath, glaring at the red BMW in front of him. She was in so much trouble, she wouldn't know what hit her by the time he was through with this crap (bad choice of words, considering, but he was a bit beyond that right now).

"You're dead. No, not like that. No you're not in Hell and I'm not the Devil, Deanna, stop blaspheming! You will be though. I will kill you Deanna. Yes you may assume I'm bringing the Angel of Wrath with me. Yes this is about last night and yes my brother ca—he's not evil, Deanna—"

He manages not to crash on his way to the flower shop, but it's a near thing. Angels are on his side and he's not even kidding. He's got a good feeling about this, and it's not just because of the satisfaction he's totally not feeling at having successfully instilled the fear of God in her heart (it's an accomplishment, considering she's an atheist). He cracks up the radio and tries not to think about how tired she'd sounded, tries not to wonder how bad things must be for this to have happened, because she'd constricted her self-destructive tendencies better than this since her father's death.

He still wonders, he still worries, but he's going to do something about it now. He has to believe she'll be fine, _knows_ she will be, if only for Sam's sake and not her own.

Amelia kisses him good bye and thanks him for the flowers, orders him to yell at Deanna for her and hug Sam (he'll hug Deanna too, Amelia counts on it, and it's not really a question even if Deanna will be hissing like a drenched kitten. It's cute how she pretends she hates it). He's got faith, has always had faith in this, but sends an extra prayer to the sky. He's been praying a lot today but it's warranted. Someone's listening and things were going to improve, he was going to ensure it.

He just needed a plan or two (or ten), but Sam was a smart kid and Castiel was pathetically easy to manipulate (in totally well meaning ways reeking of good intentions). Jimmy totally had this covered. Jimmy was awesome but he was going to give in to the urge and ram the Volvo in front of him if it didn't pick up speed beyond Snail. Road rage, it was a thing. He was working on it.

.


End file.
